


Treasures

by sleepykit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Multi, Raised Apart, Unrelated Winchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepykit/pseuds/sleepykit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean owns an auto shop in Texas, and somehow even here, the Apocalypse will find him. AU where Dean and Sam are not brothers. Comments always welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

Through an open door to the garage, Jo Harvelle could just barely make out her boss’s shoes sticking out from underneath his 1967 Chevy Impala. The car was old, more relic than reliable vehicle, but the boss liked it well enough to keep tinkering. The blonde woman rolled her eyes and shook her head, fingers poised over an ancient keyboard.

“Did you ever charge the Armstrong boys for those spark plugs?” she said loudly, hoping the man could hear her from the garage.

Said keyboard, along with the rest of the computer and office, was a holdover from the previous century. The whole setup belonged in a museum – some exhibit of the time before the last Depression – but instead it lounged in Dean Wesson’s auto garage. The PC itself barely passed for a computational device; it moved at a snail’s pace. Every month when it came time to reconcile the shop’s meager finances, Jo suddenly wished for a root canal.

A muffled voice from beneath a car replied, “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“It was a ten minute job,” Dean grumbled.

“Do you even know how much those things cost us?”

With a groan, the twenty-four-year-old man scooched gingerly out from under his Baby and dusted himself off. Upright again, he stood not quite six feet tall; dressed in a pair of oil-stained jeans and a worn out black t-shirt, he was the spitting image of a mechanic. A well-muscled one with close-cropped brown hair and piercing green eyes.

“Not a clue. That’s why you’re the accountant and not me.”

The blond woman took a deep breath and sighed dramatically. “And this is why I curse you monthly.”

Unconcerned, Dean shrugged, popped open a bottle of beer, and began putting his tools up neatly in a corner of the garage. “So bill them now.”

“And listen to their father whine at me for an hour for ‘overcharging’ his little hooligans?” Jo shook her head. “Hell no. Next time, those leeches can’t have their rust bucket back until they pay for all services rendered.”

Dean strode through the garage into the waiting area and office where his manager was working. “You worry too much,” he said as he sat down in one of the plastic chairs by her desk.

“Just making up for you not worrying at all. We don’t run on sunlight and unicorn farts.”

“So long as there are cars and gasoline,” said the owner reassuringly, “we’ll have customers.”

“And both of those are in short supply,” mumbled the nineteen-year-old under her breath. Louder she said, “Fine, but next time someone pays you in live chickens, Dean, you get to keep them.”

“Whatever happened to those birds, anyway?”

Jo leafed through another receipt and then began rapidly typing into an accounting program. “Mom cooked them up over the Fourth. Remember that week of grilled chicken salads? That was Bob and George.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, that explains it.” His attention wandered to the calendar taped to an off-white wall. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?”

“Last I checked, Boss.”

“Then, what the hell are you still doing here, kiddo?”

“Working. Also, call me that again, and this duty’s all yours.” Joanna gestured at the receipts and invoices scattered haphazardly on the desk before her.

Ignoring the jab, Dean asked, “Shouldn’t you be partying or something?”

“God no. What gave you that idea?”

The mechanic raised a curious eyebrow. “Wasn’t the guy who picked up last week a boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” she corrected as she pulled a stray blond hair out of her eyes. “I see you eyeing that shotgun of yours, Mr. Wesson, but I can assure you, that’s entirely unnecessary. He was an asshole, but he had the common decency to at least let me know before it went anywhere.”

“You have strange tastes in men.”

The woman grinned. “Apparently, I like them with a side of psychotic tendency. Go figure. On that note, why are even discussing my love life? Can we talk about you, instead?”

“Fuck, no. I’m thinking of closing up shop for the day and going home. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Jo started to say when they both heard a thundering crash outside, followed by a heart-wrenching scream and a thud.

For a moment, the two exchanged worried glances. The woman stood up with enough force to knock over her chair, vaulted over the office desk, and sprinted outside. Behind her, Dean grabbed his trusty sawed-off shotgun and followed a little more slowly, limping slightly with each step.

Jo rounded the corner around the side of the shop into a small alley that separated the garage from the nearby fence and beyond that, hilly fields and the city dump. Her gaze landed straight on another, much older hunter. Gordon.

“Shit,” she whispered and slid to a halt, heart pounding.

Like Dean, this hunter was tall and muscular, his body built and honed for battle. His dark skin glistened in the pounding hot sun. In one hand, he held a pistol and it was pointed down at a body that lay prone on the dirty ground at his feet. Narrow, angry eyes regarded the young beta woman with plain distrust.

Dean strolled up beside Jo, shotgun already raised, and aimed it dead center at the hunter. “What the fuck are you doing here, Gordon? This is my territory, and you’re not welcome here.”

“None of your business, Wesson,” Gordon practically growled, showing off teeth. “Don’t go sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”

“You’re on my turf, asshole. So, I’m making it my business.”

“Fuck off, little pup. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean put a finger on the trigger and released the gun’s safety. “Answer the goddamn question, Walker, before I add a few more holes to your chest.”

Gordon kicked the body in front of him sharply, and it whimpered in pain. “Just an omega, learning its very first lessons. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, boy.”

Jo gasped involuntarily, and the hunter rounded on her instead. “And don’t you go telling me it’s human, bitch. Omegas ain’t human.” There was no sanity or empathy in his dark, pitiless eyes.

He lifted his own weapon and the two hunters faced off. Both were predators, itching for a fight, waiting for the other to make the first move. Somewhere between hatred and biology, the alphas focused on each other; two natural born hunters with the streets as their jungle.

“You know what,” Dean said after a moment, taking the high road. “I’ve heard enough. You come into my territory, against pack law, raise your voice at me and insult the manager of my store. I don’t like it. Get your sorry ass out of here, Gordon. Last warning.”

Gordon grinned, his smile crazy. "Too bad. I ain't leaving without my prize."

“Fine,” said the man next to Jo mercilessly and took a shot at the older hunter.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the alley like ricocheting thunder. Briefly surprised, Gordon looked down at the bloody stain slowly growing on his left shoulder. Even loaded with buckshot, the gun could do damage. It wasn’t enough to kill, but it numbed Gordon’s arm enough that he let go of his own gun. It clattered out of his grip and onto the ground.

Gordon’s free hand went to his wound. “What the hell was that? You’re not supposed to maim other humans, asshole.”

“Really, Gordon? Tell that to the boy you tortured. Now I suggest you move, or my next shot will aim somewhere a little lower.”

"You bastard."

Dean shrugged. “Maybe.”

Gordon backed up a few steps, away from the body, his undamaged hand going to his bleeding shoulder. He wore a stunned, disbelieving expression on his face, like he wasn’t quite sure this was happening.

As soon as he was out of touching range, Joanne rushed over and knelt down beside the bleeding young man. His chest rose and fell with every shallow breath and his heart beat steadily, if slowly, beneath the woman’s probing fingers.

Up close, the boy looked young and vulnerable, beaten and battered from head to toe. A large purple bruise covered the left side of his face, complete with a black eye. His ears were pierced with two blood-red studs. The kid was barely dressed in a torn shirt and boxers.

Gun still pointed at Gordon, Dean came over and stood beside Jo as if guarding her and the unconscious man. He fished his cell phone out of a pocket and flipped the worn out thing open.

“I think I’ve seen him somewhere before,” Jo said uncertainly.

Wesson nodded as he dialed 911. “Yeah, you probably have. Remember John’s little boy?”

“Sam?”

The shotgun-wielding, green-eyed hunter gave their address to a dispatcher on the other end of the line and then nodded at his manager. “Looks like it.”

“He’s gotten tall.” Joanne guessed the omega was six foot four or five.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said into the phone and hung up. “Listen, Jo, why don’t you go down to the hospital with the boy when the paramedics arrive. I’m going to make a few more calls and meet you there, all right? Keep an eye on him, and _don’t_ let the doctors make any stupid decisions on his behalf.”

The woman looked momentarily up at Dean and saw raw hatred in his eyes and sadness. “Why? What’s wrong? Boss?”

“I met Sam about four years back. Ran a hunt with him and his father. If memory serves, he was an alpha back then, like his late daddy.”

Jo gasped. “The fuck? That’s not possible! Dean, you can’t change designation.”

“I don’t know for sure, Jo. Maybe I’m not remembering right. Just do your best, all right? I’ll get in touch with Ellen and Bobby, see if they have any insight into this whole mess.”

“Mama and John didn’t get along.”

“John Winchester didn’t get along with anyone much. Stubborn assholes are like that. But, Ellen had a thing for the boy – used to mention that she thought John needed to settle down, give his kid some semblance of a normal life. She might know something.”

“All right,” Jo whispered as the first sounds of police sirens rang out in the distance. “What about Gordon?”

“I don’t need no stinking EMTs,” growled the older man. “Leave me out of it.”

“You’re welcome to fuck off now,” Dean offered.

“You’ll pay for this,” Walker promised as he retrieved his gun and hopped the fence to his left.

At Jo’s uncertain look, Dean sighed. "He's not going anywhere anytime soon. Not with all that blood."

“I don’t like it, Boss.”

Dean looked at the boy on the ground. “Neither do I, Jo. Neither do I.”


	2. Frontier Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we discover that the world's falling apart, and it's not even Lucifer's fault, yet.

Not half an hour later, three skilled paramedics wheeled the bruised and still bleeding Sam into the emergency room of a local area hospital. Middle of the day on a Sunday and the waiting room was packed – too much violence and not enough staff. A triage nurse in the charge of the floor took one look at the unconscious boy and began barking out orders at top speed.

She gestured to Joanne and demanded sternly, “What the hell happened to him?”

“I don’t know for sure,” stuttered the blonde woman, looking around. “He might’ve been beaten. Maybe worse.”

“Not in the riots down south, I hope.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. We don’t ask too many questions around here, but this last one… It’s always worse when the cops step in, I swear.” The nurse shook her head. “Kid a friend of yours?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

Jo thought of a long-ago summer. She’d been twelve or thirteen, playing in the dirt outside her mother’s bar when John Winchester drove up. Had a boy with him, maybe eleven or so, brown hair, sweet smile, curious gaze. Jo remembered the way he’d tilted his head and asked her what she was doing. That summer seemed like an eternity ago.

“All right, well, let’s get him into a room and hooked up to the monitors. See what’s what.” The head nurse handed Jo papers on a clip board and a pen. "Here. Just fill those out and put them on the counter when you’re done. I’ll come get you when you can go in to see him.”

“What’s going on?” Jo asked, indicating the packed room.

“More of the same crap, honestly. Rioting, looting. Now they’re saying water shortages.” The nurse smiled reassuringly. “Don’t you worry, your friend’s in good hands and omegas heal fast. Especially during their transition.”

“Thank you,” Jo said quietly, subdued.

With a sympathetic nod, the nurse looked around the room and moved deftly onto the next patient. Jo found herself a place to stand next to one of the fans. There was at least a dozen of them scattered throughout the room, circulating muggy hot air. She stared down at the paperwork in her hands, bewildered.

 _What does one write for the cause of injury here? Torture by asshole? Designation change?_ The whole concept made her skin crawl.

Jo was still fiddling with the forms when an orderly came to get her twenty minutes later. She was a short, plum woman in her mid-thirties with bright, orange hair and dark eyes. Even dressed in unflattering blue scrubs, the woman carried herself with an air of authority. Someone who knew what she was doing.

“My name’s Amanda, and I’m the nurse on duty today,” she introduced herself. “And you are?”

“Joanne Harvelle. Or just Jo for short.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jo. Now if you’d kindly follow me, I can take you to see your friend.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Amanda led the way down a dimly-lit hall, past several hospital rooms, into a small tucked away room in the very back. A sign above the door read “Omega Ward” in four languages, including Spanish and Chinese.

Sam lay on a hospital bed up against the far wall. He was the only patient there, hooked up to several blinking and beeping machines whose outputs made little sense to Jo. Amanda checked over his chart and nodded to herself, then scribbled something at the bottom of the clip board.

“All right, a doctor should be in to see you shortly. Until then, you’re welcome to pull up a chair or get some water. If you happen to finish that paperwork, just bring it out front for me, all right? If you need anything else, let me know.”

The woman turned to leave when Jo said, “Wait. Is Sam going to be OK?”

“He’s been seriously injured. There’s no two ways about that. Right now, he’s stable and in fair condition. The doctor can tell you more when he comes in.” Amanda patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’ll be all right.”

“Thank you.”

Jo walked over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping patient. Tall and lanky, he was all sharp angles; high cheekbones, long hands, thin face. Chestnut hair fell into his eyes and around his pierced ears. She reached out to brush it away when the door opened and Dean strode into the room.

The whole place smelled like disinfectant and death, not exactly a pleasant combination for anyone but especially pungent for the alpha. His sense of smell left little to the imagination – one of the many reasons Dean avoided hospitals unless he was mortally wounded.

“How is he?” asked the shop owner nervously.

Jo turned to look at the man and shrugged. “The nurse said he was stable, I guess.”

“I’ll go find the doctor.”

“They said he’ll be around shortly.” Jo glanced at the clock on the wall behind Dean. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I drove.”

“Did you, or did you fly?”

“I teleported, Jo. Seriously.” Sarcasm dripped from those few words.

“Sorry.” The young woman sighed. “I just… I don’t know _what_ to think. I mean, that was Gordon. We know him, you know… Sure, he’s a bit of a rogue, but this!”

Dean walked over to the bed and frowned down at its occupant. “This is something dark. Not the sort of thing right-minded hunters should be meddling with.”

“Did my mother know anything?”

Dean was about to answer when a man in a lab coat strolled into the room and approached them. He looked elderly, well into his fifties, with balding silver hair and a meticulous gate. He adjusted his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

“Are either of you Sam’s family?” he asked kindly enough.

“Afraid not,” Jo’s boss answered with his most charming smile, “but we might be as close as he’s got to one right now. And if there’s anything we can do to help…”

“All right, well, um, sir are you an alpha by chance?”

“Of course,” Dean answered, and Jo could see gears turning in his head.

It wasn’t the sort of private question anyone normally asked – in the same way people didn’t generally discuss genitals in public. The laws that governed designations were the kind of morass that even swamp people avoided. Jo blushed at the answer but kept her discomfort entirely to herself.

“In that case, my name's Doctor Richard Williams,” said the balding doctor and shook Dean's hand. “I'm the doctor assigned to take care of your friend.”

“How's he doing, Doc?”

“He's in pretty bad shape, but it's nothing that time and good care won’t fix. For the moment, at least, he's stable and in his condition is improving,” Williams explained as he looked over Sam's chart. “That said, he has experienced some extreme trauma. It's possible that he was raped, and furthermore, that whoever did so, then performed a forced designation change.”

“What!” Jo blurted out. “That’s _illegal_ in all fifty States, not to mention—”

Dean cut her off with a hand on her arm. “Yeah, Doc, we think he might’ve been in a bad way. Not real sure on any details.”

“As the young lady said, it is indeed illegal and very dangerous,” agreed the doctor. “That said, the damage has already been done.

“We've administered sedatives, a pain suppressant, and hormone blockers to slow the progress of the change. It will still happen, of course, but slower and with less discomfort. We've also patched up some of his other injuries.” Williams gestured at Sam's bandaged arm and stiches on his chest. “And we've added his name to the Registry.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Dean said mildly. “When can Sam check out of the hospital?”

“I'd say at any point after he wakes up. I would recommend against it, though, unless he has someplace to go for a few weeks. The change is brutal at any age; it's not something that anyone should have to face alone.”

“Of course. We'll take good care of him. Thanks again, doc.”

“If you need anything, feel free to ping a nurse, all right? I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on him.” The doctor smiled politely and left the room.

Jo let go of a breath she didn’t remember holding. “What Registry?”

“The one that goes with the Equality for all Designations Act. My name’s on there somewhere, in the alpha list. One of my names.”

“Oh.”

“I’d rather the doc hadn’t done that seeing as how we’re in one of the few states that hasn’t caught up with the rest of the US, but it’s not something we need to worry about right now. We need to get Sam checked out and away from here, soon as we can.”

“Did Mama know anything more?”

“She confirmed my suspicions about Sam’s prior designation. So there’s that.”

“What about Gordon?”

“No one’s been keeping any kind of a close eye on Walker, so whatever this is, it slipped past us.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Ellen said she’d put out some feelers, see if anyone knows what that asshole’s up to.”

“Dean, what do we do now? About Gordon and Sam. What if that monster is doing the same thing to others?”

“We do what needs doing, Jo. Like any hunter. Sometimes, evil wears a perfectly human skin. For now, let’s worry about Sam; his well-being is top priority. I'm going to go clear out the spare bedroom above the garage, so Sam has a place to stay for a little while.”

“You going to be OK?”

Dean's eyebrows rose a notch. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you're, you know, an alpha, and he's basically catnip. Or he will be when he wakes up.”

“I'll deal with it.”

“We could take him to the Roadhouse. There’s a few cots in the back.”

“Gordon knows its whereabouts and he knows you were there, so odds are good that if that prick goes hunting, he'll show up there. I'd rather he not slaughter your mom's patrons, if I can at all avoid it.”

“If you're sure, Boss.”

“About as sure as I normally am. When Sam wakes up, help him get checked out and then call me. I'll pick both of you up.”

Jo looked over at the boy on the bed. “He probably doesn't remember me.”

“He's not likely to remember a whole lot of anything right now, Jo. Don't worry about it. Just hang out for a while. If it looks like it's getting late, call me and then go home. We'll figure this out.”

“All right, fine.”

“See you in a few hours.”

“See you, Dean. Be careful, please? I don't think Gordon will either forgive or forget.”

Dean patted his shotgun and grinned, a wild and dangerous look in his eyes. “Next time I see that son of a bitch, he and I are going to have a heart to heart. He won’t much like it.”

He stormed out of the room like a passing hurricane, leaving Jo alone with the unconscious young man. She pulled over a plastic chair and sat down by the bed, adrenaline rush slowly wearing off. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around Sam’s free hand – the one that wasn’t bandaged – and hoped to whichever god was listening that he’d wake up again.


	3. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This nurse had survived the dinosaurs and the modern age doesn't agree with her.

For the next couple of hours, Jo dozed fitfully in a too-small chair next to Sam's hospital bed, scrunched in what could only be described as a yoga position gone awry. She awoke to a stiff neck and aching muscles, which refused to co-operate when she tried to get up. Her stomach grumbled at the lack of food -- breakfast seemed unbearably long ago. All it all, the young woman was starting to feel downright miserable. 

 _And it had started out like such a lovely, Sunday, too_ , Joanne thought with a sigh as she glanced up at the clock on the wall. She began contemplating dinner when a soft groan startled her out of her reverie. She looked over just as the omega opened his eyes for the first time since arriving at the hospital. Slowly, he looked around, sea-green gaze lost and unfocused. With a moan, the boy tried to lift his head off the pillow.

Jo moved to stop him, at first. “It’s all right, Sam, you’re safe. I’m just going to call a nurse for you, OK? It’s all right.”

“Thirsty,” Sam whispered hoarsely and winced. Moving hurt, speaking especially so.

Jo pressed the paging button by the bed. “Just hang in there for a few more minutes. Someone’s coming to help.”

“Where I am?”

“The ambulance brought you to, um, Sisters of Mercy Medical Center. We’re a couple of miles outside of Houston.”

Sam half-nodded and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable pain. Then, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. He winced with every inch and gasped in sheer 

“How’re you feeling?” asked the blonde woman softly.

“Dizzy.”

“Do you want to lie back down? It might feel better.”

Sam shook his head. “Who’re you? I kind of think…”

“Name’s Joanne, or Jo. Dean and I found you in an alley earlier today.”

Groggy from the medication in his system, the omega spoke slowly, slurring his words a little. Speaking took a lot of effort and he concentrated, brows furrowed, as he tried to remember what had happened. He had a soft, southern accent that Jo couldn’t place and the warmest voice she’d ever heard.

Upright, the boy looked handsome, with high cheekbones and a soft, easy mouth. Bangs fell loosely into his eyes, and Jo brushed them away with her free hand. She felt something like maternal instinct, a desire to take care of the boy, and wondered where in the world that had come from.

About then, an elderly nurse in green scrubs walked into the room and looked at the two children disapprovingly. “Lie back down, young one,” she commanded. “You ain’t ready to be up and about. And you, girl, what were you thinking, letting him sit up?”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Jo said quietly as she gingerly helped Sam lie back down. “He wanted to—”

The nurse cut her off. “That’s so much better now. How’re you feeling, my boy?”

“All right, I guess. Thirsty.”

“Perfectly normal, given the circumstances. And your vital signs look good.”

The older woman grabbed a bottle of water out of a cabinet and poured some into a paper cup. She puttered over to the bed. “Raise your head up just a bit now. Wouldn’t want you choking on this.”

Sam took a few shallow sips and sighed.

“That’s better,” the nurse repeated. “Now where’s that alpha of yours?” She began writing down the numbers off some of the monitors. “He ought to be here, really. Shame on him. It’s not like them good old days. Alphas were gentlemen back then, wouldn’t leave an omega’s side.” She patted Sam on the shoulder and clucked a few times. “People today, though. No respect.”

Jo frowned and pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call Dean.”

“You’d better, young lady. Would be a shame for the young one to go through all of this by himself. Damn shame.”

Sam looked cautiously between the two women and then sat up by himself, wincing still but otherwise steady. “I’d like to leave.”

“Absolutely not, young man! Lie right on back down. You ain’t in no condition to be going nowhere!” The silver-haired nurse shook her head. “There ain’t no rushing a change, boy. You have to take it easy for a while.”

“Please,” protested the young man.

“No, and no. It’s not proper, all of it. Not one bit. Just be still a moment, and I’ll give you a bit more morphine. I suspect the pain’s starting to really peak.”

With one swift gesture, Sam reached down and pulled the IV needle out of his arm. He gritted his teeth against the momentary pain and a bead of blood appeared on his tan skin. The nurse gaped at him for a moment, about ready to have a heart attack, and shook her head.

“You’re far too stubborn for your designation, boy. Now, lay back down and behave. No more of this nonsense.” She rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a syringe prefilled with sedatives.

Before she had time to really think it through, Jo put herself between the nurse and Sam, for all that she was five feet tall and not at all intimidating. “Look, if he doesn’t want the drugs, it’s OK.”

“Little girl, let’s stop playing pretend. Your friend over there’s sick. He needs rest and his alpha, and that’s all there is to it. Now, please move so I can do my work, all right?”

“Can we at least wait until Sam’s alpha  _gets_  here?”

“If you insist, but it’s really not good for him. The pain can be quite overwhelming, especially for someone like him. Best he sleeps through it.”

Sam sighed. “I’ve been through worse.”

Jo didn’t even want to contemplate what  _worse_  looked like as she dialed Dean’s number and put the phone up to her ear. At his hello, she said, “It’s Jo. You may want come down to the hospital. Right now. Sam’s awake.”

“Be right there,” Wesson replied and hung up.

Jo put her phone back into a pocket and took a deep breath. “Dean should be here in half an hour, tops. Until then, would you mind me speaking with Sam, in private?”

“Fine,” grumbled the nurse and puttered out of the room.

“Well that was weird,” the young woman said after a moment of silence, dumbfounded, and picked her jaw up off the floor.

“What did she mean, Jo?” Sam asked cautiously, looking down at his hands. “About my alpha?”

The young woman sat back down in the chair by the bed, frowning. “Do you remember what happened to you? Before the hospital.”

“Not much.”

“There was a man named Gordon. He might’ve been chasing you.”

At the mention of the hunter, Sam shivered and ran a hand through his wavy hair. For a moment, his eyes unfocused. “He had a gun.”

“Yeah, he did.” Jo paused and chewed on her lip. “The doctor who’s treating you said that someone, possibly even Gordon, hurt you pretty badly. Whoever it was, they altered your designation using an old, forbidden ritual.”

Sam let go of the breath he was holding and nodded to himself. “I was wonder why everything felt  _off_.”

The world had never been a particularly dull place, as far as the young man was concerned, but now it lit up in a thousand hues. He could just as easily smell Joanne’s flowery perfume as the scents of prior omegas who’d visited this hospital room. From the cracking linoleum floor to the stars painted on the ceiling, the whole room had stories to tell him. Stories he wasn’t ready to hear, yet.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I haven’t the words for what happened to you. It’s not fair.”

“Life happens,” said the man, “and not always the way we’d like it. Dad taught me that. Thanks, for taking care of that nurse.”

Jo smiled wanly, feeling tear prickling at the edges of her eyes. “She seemed weirdly old-fashioned, even for this place. Like she’s been around since the dinosaurs walked the earth, and the modern age just isn’t to her liking.”

All the while, she kept thinking, e _xactly how does one tell the truth about the human monsters out there?_

Ever practical, Sam didn’t linger. “Listen, can you tell me who Dean is?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Jo chuckled. “He is a hunter who used to frequent the Roadhouse. Nowadays, he owns a small garage down by the coast where he tinkers with old cars. You might remember him. He said he went on a mission with you and your Pa a few year ago.”

Brows furrowed, Sam seemed to remember. “Oh yeah. Tall? Buzz cut? Limps when he’s worried?”

“That sounds like him, all right. My boss.”

“Is he going to stop me from leaving?”

“I don’t think so, Sam. He told me to check you out as soon as you woke up. Obviously that’s not going to happen with Miss ‘you-don’t-know-what-you’re-doing’ on our backs, but Dean’s not Texas-brand crazy.”

Sam nodded. “Good enough. It’ll have to be.”


	4. Checking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My what? I don't think you and are getting along, Dean!"

Dean stormed into Sam's hospital room like an out-of-control steamroller. It was just about the time Jo finished telling the boy that her boss wasn't Texas crazy. He'd showered and changed into some nicer, clean jeans and a button-down shirt. Said shirt still hugged his well-developed abs but he no longer looked like a crazed hillbilly with a sawed off shotgun. Wesson cleaned up well.

With an internal giggle, Joanne remembered a late night when, in a less than sober state of mind, she’d bluntly suggested that her boss could make a lot of money modeling for a nude magazine. Neither Dean nor Ellen let her live that down.

The hunter took in the scene before him with a single, long glance, and then his eyes narrowed. “How’re you doing, Sam?”

The alpha’s commanding tone caught Sam off guard; the question itself was innocent enough, but the undertone left no space for half-truths or evasion. He found himself struggling to disobey, fighting against an urge to be brutally honest. He realized that even he didn't know for sure how he was doing. After a moment, he took a deep breath and forced himself relax.

“Just sore, and other things. I don’t know,” the omega answered, voice guarded. “I’d like… to get out of here.”

A feral, wild look crossed Dean’s face as he said, “Works for me. You got a place to stay?”

“Uh yeah, I do. I rented a motel room for a couple of weeks. On Tuesday, I think. Due north of here.”

“It’s not safe there,” the alpha practically growled. “You can’t stay anyplace that Gordon knows about.”

Sam found himself resisting the urge to simply say yes and let it go. He frowned and chewed his lip. “All my stuff is there.”

“We can send someone out to pick it up for you tomorrow.”

“I’d like to get it, please.”

“Absolutely not. It’s not safe.”

Jo frowned at the sight of the omega’s pleading expression. “Cool it, Boss. You’re not Sam’s keeper. If he wants to get his things, so be it.”

The hunter visibly relaxed, shoulders loosening, and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that. Nerves, I guess.”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” asked the green-eyed young man.

“It’s biology,” Dean insisted. “Not the same thing. I mean, sure, maybe evolution made alphas a little territorial, but I don’t think Jo here is going to let me turn into a mother hen.”

“If I don’t join in,” the woman quipped, thinking back to that unwanted motherly instinct.

“Place to stay aside,” Dean said, “I suggest we make a disappearance before anyone asks too many pointed questions. Texas isn’t friendly… to much of anyone, really.”

At the promise of leaving this tiny, windowless room, Sam nodded eagerly and swung his feet off the edge of the bed. Leaning against the bed’s handrails for support, he put his weight on his feet and stood up. Instantly, his head swam with a sickening dizziness, and he felt himself begin to topple.

Dean caught him before the kid could fall and gently steadied him. “One step at a time, pal.”

Standing up, Sam was a few inches taller than his savior. Awake and moving, he still looked like he’d lost a fight with a tractor but he had a disarming smile and welcoming eyes. His cheeks burned when he felt the alpha’s hands on his arms, and for a moment he had to remember to breathe. And he felt a little colder, a little sadder, when Dean helped him sit down in a chair and let go.

“I just want to be out of here.”

“My place is pretty close. You can stay with me for a couple of nights.”

Sam looked up at the alpha. “Dean, I can take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Of course you can, I’m not saying otherwise. But, you don’t have to. We’re offering to help.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Tonight, Dean’s place is safest. Come tomorrow, though, we need to get you clear out of Texas, Sam. The farther the better.”

“I can’t leave, yet! Not until…”

“Until what, kid, you kill that son of a bitch?” Dean demanded, exasperated. “Hate to break it to you, but omegas don’t do revenge.”

“Dean!” Jo chastised. “Stop being a domineering asshole and start being nice, would you?”

“He had… others… there. Bastard turns them and then sells them, I think. It was hell.” Sam shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Gordon Walker is a madman.”

For a moment, Dean merely glared at a distant wall. Then he caved. “Compromise then. Stay at my place for a day or two, make sure you’re all right, and then we go hunt down Gordon, and anyone else involved in this sick trade of his.”

“I’m coming, too,” said the blonde.

“Jo, your mother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

“My mother isn’t my keeper, either, Dean, and I can hunt with the best of them. Drop it, it’s an argument you can’t win, Boss.”

“Fine, fine! Sam, you all right with that?”

“Yeah, I guess,” replied the young man as he, too, relaxed.

“Let me go find this doctor and get all the paperwork out of the way.” Dean made a bee line out of the hospital room as though it was on fire.

Jo smiled at Sam reassuringly. “Don’t be too harsh on him, all right? He’s a good guy. He tries hard.”

“He seems like it. I saw his face when I mentioned Gordon. Do they have a history?”

“If they do, Dean’s never talked about it. He’s not really into sharing.” Jo shrugged. “Gordon’s well known in hunter circles, mostly as a loner. Doesn’t play well with others. Mostly goes after vampires. That kind of thing. This… whatever it is… is a side of him none of us knew about.”

A few minutes later, Doctor Williams strode into the room with the hunter on his heels. Richard pulled up a chair from the corner and sat down, facing Jo and Sam. Dean towered behind them, leaning against a wall, too agitated to sit still.

The doctor looked down at his notes and then said, “So, how’re you feeling, Sammy?”

“Sam,” the omega corrected him. “And, fine.”

Unlike the alpha, the doctor was a beta, just another normal average human being. Sam could tell, just like he could tell that Dean made the doc distinctly uncomfortable. 

Looking up at Dean -- and completely ignoring the omega -- Williams went on, “Let’s go over post-hospital procedures and medications. Then I’ll have you sign a few forms, and then we’ll have you and Sam out of here in no time.”

Dean glanced down at Sam and mouthed, “I’ll handle it.”

“So first things first, medications. We’re prescribing Percocet for pain relief for at least the first week, one pill every eight hours. You can switch him over to Tylenol after that. I know some people prefer to let an omega feel the pain of the change, but we strongly caution against it. The medical consensus is that good pain management leads to better outcomes overall.

“Next up, hormone suppressants. There’s not much to say here. These are really your preference, but again, we recommend them. A slower change tends to have fewer complications and we see a large decrease in hospital visits. You’ll want Sam to take one before bed nightly or when he gets up in the morning. Consistent usage is the key with these pills.”

“Um,” Jo started to say when Dean shook his head.

“Thank you, Doctor, we’ll make sure Sam gets all the medicine he needs,” Dean said right over her. “Anything else?”

“Plenty of rest and good food is always a must. For the first few weeks, I would recommend very light exercise and just in general, nothing too strenuous. Once his arm and hand heal up, he may need some physical therapy, but we won’t know for sure until we get there. Might be good to come in for a checkup in a few weeks, just to make sure everything’s healing well.”

“Understood.”

“In the state of Texas there are also elective surgeries available for omegas that I can go over with you, if you’d like.”

“Not necessary. I think we’re fine, thank you.”

“All right then, that’s all I had. Here are meds.” He handed Dean two small, orange bottles. “Let me have you sign these consent and release forms, and you can be on your way.”

Nodding, the hunter scribbled his name in completely illegible cursive on the appropriate doted lines. Williams handed him copies of the paperwork, a packet of at-home-care instructions, and then politely excused himself. As soon as the doctor was out of earshot, Dean handed the medications to Sam. 

"Unless anyone objects, let's not stick around to see what happens next."

“Is it like this everywhere?” asked the younger man softly, horror in his voice.

Jo sighed. “Not everywhere, but there are at least three states in the contiguous US that still haven’t gotten their proverbial heads out of their actual asses. Texas is a top offender. Up north is better. Canada’s mostly got it right. Mexico… well, we don’t talk about them.”

“I didn’t realize…”

Jo took Sam’s non bandaged hand and squeezed gently. “Most people don’t. It’s OK. Promise, you’ll be all right. We’ll make sure of it.”

“How’s about we do that somewhere else, kids? Come on.”

Sam leaned heavily on the older man as the trio walked out of the hospital room, through the still overflowing waiting area, and into the parking lot outside. 


	5. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whereby Sam begins to understand that sometimes, the world just sucks.

"All right, so, plan of action," Dean said as he pulled open the driver-side door of his black land yacht. "We find ourselves some dinner, then go up to this motel of yours, pick up your stuff, and head back to my place."

"Yay, food," Jo practically cheered from the shotgun seat. "I'm starving."

"Thank you," Sam whispered.

Slowly, the sedatives and painkillers were starting to wear off. Sam was used to feeling pain — had seen nothing but agony in the last few days and plenty of scrapes and bruises before then — but he struggled with these new discomforts. All around him wafted new and unfamiliar scents; some of it was the hunter with his overpowering musk and some old spice deodorant. But the omega could smell others as well, a brutal and potent mix of fear and anger and despair.

Internally, he wasn't doing much better. Beyond the cuts and bruises that marred his skin, the young man was beginning to feel strange, as though no longer quite at home in his own skin. Whenever Dean spoke, no matter the context, the omega winced and had to remind himself to stay calm. He found commands almost impossible to ignore.

Where once, Sam had felt the sheer adrenaline rush of confidence — he had been an alpha — lay a gaping hole he wasn't yet sure how to fill. Moment by moment, he wanted to get up in Dean's face almost as fervently as he wanted to say "yes".

As sunlight faded into dusk, the new omega drifted in and out of a restless sleep. He watched the passing scenery mutely as the traveled along an unfamiliar interstate and only really stirred when the Impala pulled off the highway next to a nondescript, worn down tavern. The omega awoke from a fitful dream and rubbed his eyes sleepily as he sat up straight and looked around. Dean drove the thirty feet down a dirt path to the wooden building and parked by the entrance.

"Let's get food to go," Jo suggested as the hunter turned off the ignition.

"Why?"

"Sam's not exactly dressed to go in there."

Dean's gaze wandered over to the back seat. "What's the problem, again?"

"Sam's not..."

"Oh." A light bulb went on above the alpha's head. "Hang on, I think I have some spare clothes in the trunk. They might not fit quite right but they should do."

"That's not what I meant," protested the woman.

"Then what do you mean?"

Joanne sighed and wrung her hands together. "First of all, he's not marked or claimed. Also, he's not wearing a collar, which is going to piss off the locals. Doesn't matter where we stop, some overbearing asshole is going to get up in his face about it. Or in yours, if he's got more than three brain cells."

"How the fuck do you know all this?"

"We see these things, sometimes a little too up close and personal."

"You carry mace, right?" asked a now-overprotective Dean.

"And I can take down an asshole, yes. And in a couple of days, when Sam's healed up, he will, too. But right at this moment..."

"I'll be all right," Sam offered softly between yawns.

"Final decision. We go in, we eat, and we get out. If anyone so much as sniffs in our directly, I'll kindly introduce them to my gun." The alpha nodded to himself. "Come on, we don't have all night."

Sam trailed behind his two companions as they slowly made their way up the tavern's front steps and into its chilly interior. The whole place had a western vibe to it, complete with deer heads mounted on the walls. A couple of older patrons sat in a corner by the bar counter, chatting with the bartender, and two others lounged in a secluded booth by the windows.

Dean chose a booth as well, in a corner, with a good view of the whole tavern. He gestured for Sam to get in first and then sat down beside him. Jo took the spot opposite them and put her feet up. When the waiter arrived a few minutes later, he asked the hunter for his order, then Joanne, and then the hunter again. Briefly the omega wondered if there was a giant "ignore me" sign taped to his forehead.

"What sounds good for dinner, Sammy?" asked the hunter mildly, catching the waiter's drift.

Turning bluntly to the server, Sam answered, "I'd like a chicken Caesar salad. And, I don't need anyone to answer for me."

"Is that all right with you, sir?" asked the panicked waiter, his gaze flipping between Dean and Sam at high speeds.

"Yeah, that's fine."

Jo had never seen anyone make a disappearance as quickly as this waiter. She put her face in her hands and sighed, blushing for all the wrong reasons.

"This is going to be a long night, isn't it?" she asked dejectedly.

"Get a beer or something?" Dean suggested as he leaned back in his seat.

"I don't want a beer. I want the hell out of this backwater."

"Why is everyone treating me like I'm an idiot or an invalid?" Sam demanded once the server was out of earshot.

"You're an omega now. It's almost worse." Dean didn't like saying those words.

"I may not be well versed in Texas law, but last I checked, I was still human."

The hunter resisted a sudden urge to smack the younger man upside the head for disrespecting him. He stifled the desire but couldn't place why he felt that way at all. "Take it for granted that some places just aren't friendly to you anymore. From now on, some people will see a 'poor, helpless omega' instead of seeing Sam. The faster you get used to it — and to asserting yourself — the better."

"I refuse."

Dean smiled grimly and looked directly at the younger man. "Stand up."

Sam was halfway out of his seat before he realized what he was doing. With an angry glare at the hunter, he sat back down.

"Fuck you."

"Have I made my point?" asked the hunter mildly.

Sullenly, the boy nodded. "Yeah."

"It gets easier with time," Jo offered simply. "Where I went to school, the two omegas ended up skipping a year of school to adjust, but after that, it was all business as usual. Honestly, I don't know much more than that. Mama might. Or she might know someone who knows something."

"What does it mean, to be an omega?" Sam asked after dinner was served.

"I've heard it described as a blessing and a curse, and all sorts of things besides," the woman answered thoughtfully. "Genetically, you're still human; same chromosomes, all that science mumbo jumbo. At least that's what I remember from sex ed."

"And otherwise?"

"You're still you, Sam," Dean interjected. "With some added bonuses."

The omega looked down at his hands. "I don't think that's totally true."

"What do you want me to say? Omegas are usually more submissive, a little less wild, and more attentive. Some of them tend to be a little quiet." The hunter shrugged. "And yet, there are still people all over the world who believe that drinking your blood will grant them magical powers. We might be more civilized that the middle ages, but we still have a ways to go up that hill."

"That's gross," Jo mumbled.

"Realistically, your kind are also secretive. Only another omega will have the answers you really want."

The chestnut haired boy sighed and backed down. "Fine, all right. I don't like it, but I get it."

"How about, you eat, and I tell you what I know about omegas," Dean offered.

Sam picked up his fork, so the hunter went on. "When I changed, at fourteen, my dad took me aside for one of those you-are-now-an-adult conversations all children dread.

"He said that he'd know that I was an alpha for a while. It wasn't any kind of mystery to him. The burning need to be on top, the territorial instincts, and the rage would never really go away again. I'd have to be careful, he said, or I might do something regrettable. And then at the end, he made it very clear that I should always stay away from omegas, unless I wanted a world of trouble."

"My father gave me that same speech," the teenager acknowledged.

"Do you still remember that feeling?"

"It's mostly gone," Sam answered between bites of food he was apparently starving for.

"There's chemistry there, between alphas and omegas. Somehow, we complete one another." Dean frowned. "There are ancient myths about alphas and omegas performing miracles together. Prophesies. Fairy tales. Obviously, it's all mostly bullshit, but there's a grain of truth to every legend."

"And in school we covered the basics," Jo took over, giving her boss a chance to eat. "Alphas and omegas have genders just like everyone else. You may experience some strong hormonal shifts every couple of months, or maybe not; some people get luckier than others. Someday, if you're into that sort of thing, you might consider having children."

"God no. Never." Sam looked disturbed enough to stop eating.

"OK, then, now we know." The blonde raised her hands up in a sign of surrender.

Dean watched the room around them like a hawk. "Where's this hotel of yours? I know you said 'north' but at this point I'll need some more directions."

The omega practically licked his plate clean. "Can I see a map?"

"Yeah, I've got one in the car. We can look at it after dinner."

"The assholes by the bar are staring," Joanne said, frowning. "Have been for a couple of minutes now."

"Yeah, I see them," Dean acknowledged.

"I guess as long as they keep their distance, we're good."

"Gut instinct here," Sam said quietly, "but I don't think they're going to let us leave."

"Don't worry about it, Sammy," said the hunter with a smile, and there was both kindness and cruelty in that expression. "I won't let them get anywhere near you."

The two men at the bar both looked a bit older and not entirely sober. Jo guessed that they were probably locals and regulars, they kind of crowd who came every night and had "the usual" to drink. One of them, a man with graying hair and wild eyes, put on his cowboy hat and swaggered -- or maybe stumbled -- over first. His darker partner followed a few feet behind, looking entirely uncertain. Cowboy Hat stank of cheap booze and unwashed male strongly enough that even a beta could tell. For a moment, Dean merely watched the two approach and then slid gracefully out of his side of the booth. 

Turning to Sam, he said commandingly, "Don't move."

"Wasn't planning on it," mumbled the younger man grudgingly under his breath.

"Don't lie," the hunter added, "and don't talk back."

Sam looked up at the hunter, a startled, half-fearful look in his eyes. "I wasn't..."

"Stop being an asshole, Boss," Jo hissed as she too got up. "Let's deal with these two quickly."

Cowboy Hat nearly tripped over a chair as he walked up to the trio. He wasn't quite as tall as Dean, but he wasn't flabby either. With his chin, the patron gestured at Sam.

"He yours?"

The hunter shrugged and looked nonchalant, despite the rage seething within. "And if he is?"

"I'll pay you handsomely for him," Cowboy Hat offered with a grin that showed off missing teeth.

His companion nudged him. "Jim, you're drunk."

"I wanna fuck me some ass tonight, Don. What's your problem?" Jim slurred.

Jo rolled her eyes. "All right, look, Jim whoever you are. Sam's ours, and we're not into sharing."

"Did you get him from the farm?"

"What farm?" Dean asked, keeping his anger in check, but only just.

"Oh you know. What's his name? Walker or something. Said he can just turn on them on demand. He was in here a few days ago, boasting."

"Was there anyone with him?" The hunter reached for his shotgun.

A waiter came over, casting worried and frustrated glances between the men. "Please take this outside, gentlemen."

"A couple of thugs, I think," Don replied. "And sorry about my friend. He's not looking for trouble."

Jo smiled and Dean said, "Figured as much. Come on, Sam, let's go."


	6. Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's magic, or maybe not...

Sam's hotel lay a few pitiful blocks off the highway, in a seedy neighborhood next to a giant power plant. From a distance, the single-story building barely looked like a hotel of any kind. The vacancy sign flickered dramatically and half of its lights were broken or otherwise turned off. Nothing about the view inspired confidence.

"Which room?" Dean asked as he pulled over by the curb within walking distance of the dingy Motel 8.

"Twelve," Sam replied with a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

"Got keys?"

The omega shook his head. "Gordon took them."

"I'll go in first," the hunter said evenly, "and sweep the place. I'll signal if it's clean. Jo, you and Sam keep a few feet back. Don't come in unless I say as much."

He gout of the Impala and unlocked the trunk — a treasure trove of tools and weaponry that any hunter could appreciate. Glancing inside, even Sam whistled at the view. From this secret stash underneath the trunk's floor, Dean grabbed a basic semi-automatic pistol and loaded it. 

"Here," he said and handed it to Jo. Then, he grabbed his shotgun and closed everything back up. "It's late, and I for one, don't want any nasty surprises."

He released the safety. "Let's go."

Sam and Jo hung back as Dean strode across the parking lot and approached door number twelve. He saw a couple of other cars in the lot — all junkers and none parked next to Sam's hotel room. He jiggled the door handle, found it predictably locked, and sighed. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not bringing his lock-picks.

Deciding that waiting or going back weren't options, Dean glanced in both directions and then broke down the door with a well placed kick. He pointed his gun into the room's dark interior, expecting trouble. When nothing moved and no one emerged from the shadows, he fumbled around for a light switch and scanned the tiny motel room.

"Looks good." He beckoned for the other two to come inside. "Sam, get changed and pack. Jo, give him a hand, would you? You have ten minutes. I'll keep an eye out for any trouble."

"Will do," the omega said gratefully. "Thanks, Dean."

"Don't thank me until we're back on the road and away from this place. It smells like death."

Sam nodded. "I was here investigating a couple of pretty bizarre deaths. Best guess, the motel's haunted."

"How far did you get?"

The younger man shrugged and grabbed his backpack from underneath the bed. "Some angry asshole burned part of this place down about thirty years back. According to the the local library, he was a religious nut-case. Disagreed with an out-of-state satanist convention, I guess."

"And?"

"Bastard killed thirty or so hotel guests, set fire to the place, and then shot himself for good measure. Supposedly, he's buried in an unmarked grave in a local cemetery. Should be a simple salt and burn."

From inside the room, Jo chuckled. "Is it ever simple?"

"Tomorrow, we'll check out the cemetery, see if we can finish the job," Dean said, ending that conversation. "Now let's hurry up and get the hell out of here."

"I am all for that," Sam replied as he grabbed clean clothes out of a drawer and headed for the bathroom.

Jo took out the rest of Sam's clothes and began stuffing them into the man's backpack. Other than his documents, a laptop, a couple of weapons under the bed, and his clothes, the omega owned absolutely nothing. She was surprised at how light he traveled.

Dean felt uneasy as he stood guard by the door; hair rose on the back of his neck. He was sure that someone was watching his every move, but when he looked around he saw only the vague shapes of vehicles and lights in the distance. Voices echoed from a couple of the nearby rooms, quiet and unassuming. The air smelled of incoming rain and of Sam.

The omega's sweet, lavender scent drove him a little crazy. It both soothed and excited him -- he wanted to keep the younger man safe almost as much as he wanted him in general. He pushed the feelings aside and focused on the unease. It lingered, and he knew not the cause.

"You guys done in there?" he called out.

"Sam's changing," Jo let him know.

"Well, hurry it up."

"What's the matter, Boss?"

Dean shrugged. "Probably nothing."

"You don't sound like it's nothing."

"Don't worry about it," the alpha replied.

"Dean," the blonde warned as she picked up her weapon and came over to stand beside him. "Is something out there?"

"Maybe."

Sam came out of the restroom in fresh clothes, slung his backpack over a shoulder, and came up to them. Jo glanced over at the omega and her heart skipped a beat. Handsome didn't even begin to describe the tall boy. He was gorgeous, even with a bruise blossoming on his face. Short, brown bangs fell on either side of his forehead and his eyes practically sparkled in the meager light. Dean couldn't help noticing, either.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Sure." The younger man looked around cautiously, picking up the same discomfort.

"Go ahead. I'll cover you." Dean lifted his gun.

There was rustling in the bushes as they moved across the parking lot to the Impala. Dean wanted to shoot but there was nothing to aim at. Jo could almost feel the two men tense — something was setting off their internal alarms.

Up near the car, she popped open the back door and helped Sam get inside. "We're good."

"Get in," Dean growled at her. "Now."

As Jo pulled open her own door, gunshots rang out around them. She ducked behind the old Chevy as Dean yelled "down" and returned fire. He rolled across the front of the vehicle, landed beside her, and cursed like a sailor.

"Well, fuck," he muttered toward the end.

"Is it Gordon?"

"Hell if I know. Two shooters, maybe three. Good bet they were waiting for us."

Even now, late at night, the commotion was attracting attention; police sirens rang out in the distance. A couple of passing cars pulled over, thankfully keeping their distance for a moment, and a few curious pedestrians stopped to watch the hotel.

Jo looked over at the hunter and saw blood on his shirt. "Are you all right, Dean?"

Stupid question, she chided herself.

The alpha looked down at himself. "Yeah, I think it just grazed me. No big deal. I'll live." He groaned and slid open the passenger side door. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you need a hospital?"

"Nope. Don't think so." He climbed in, scooted over, and started the car. "Keep your head down and let's go."

From the backseat, Sam could smell blood and sweat and pain. He knew with a kind of certainty that that the hunter was injured — and more importantly, that he could do something about that. Unbidden, the omega reached over and put his left hand on Dean's shoulder. The alpha's skin felt burning hot to the touch of Sam's long fingers.

"What the hell?" the hunter demanded as the pain in his side began to subside.

"I don't know," Sam whispered softly as consciousness fled.

Jo glanced into the back seat. "He's out."

"What'd he just do?"

"What do you mean?"

"He touched me... and it's like I never got shot."

The young woman furrowed her brows. "Never heard anything like that before, Boss. I think we might want to go back to the ER."

"Is he breathing?"

Jo nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"We head to my place and get some rest." Dean looked straight ahead as the car practically flew down empty interstate. "Call your mother and tell her that we'll need backup."

"Bobby?"

"If he can come."

"Got it," Jo replied and flipped open her phone. "We've officially entered the land of Oz."

"You mean with Gordon's 'farm'?"

"I mean, in general. Sure, we have three designations — but so do wolves and chimps and most mammals really. None of them do what Sam just did."

The alpha just nodded to himself. "One problem at a time, Jo."

"That doesn't sound awful reassuring, Boss."

Dean looked deadpan at her. "Do I look like the reassuring type to you?"

"No, more like the silent, brooding type."

"Call your mother."

Jo dialed a very familiar number and leaned back in her seat while she waited for her only living parent to pick up. She'd moved out at eighteen — first to attend college, and when that didn't work out, to live closer to town and her job at Dean's automotive repair shop. She normally only spoke with the older member of the Harvelle family on weekends and holidays.

"Hello?" said a sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

"Evening, Mama. Sorry for waking you up."

"It's all right, girl. What's going on?"

"From the looks of it, trouble." Jo licked her chapped lips. "Some assholes fired on us not twenty minutes back. We were at Sam's hotel, grabbing his stuff."

"Are you all right, Jo?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

"Dean's asking for backup. Just in case whoever it is finds us."

"You tell that no-good boss of yours that he's got no right putting my daughter in danger."

"I'm an adult, Mama. You coming or not?"

"I'll get Bobby, and we'll see you in a couple of hours."

"We'll be at Dean's place."

"You be careful, Jo. I was snooping around at Walker's business, and I don't like what I saw."

"Yeah, all right. See you when you get there."

Jo hung up the phone and stared at it for a few seconds before putting it away. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep to the roar of the Impala's engine and the whine of the car.


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bachelor pad for the criminally insane.

For a long time, Jo had wondered if her boss might be homeless. Every day when she came to work, he was already meddling around in the auto shop, and she usually went home long before he did. Once, she'd remarked to her mother that Dean Wesson belonged somewhere more interesting than underneath his car, to which Ellen always replied that she preferred him with a wrench in hand. Guns, the older woman lectured, were for people who were scared of honest work.

As they approached the repair shop, Dean pulled around back and parked his car in the alley between his building and the refrigerator store next door. Jo glanced at the stairs that led up to the second story of the garage and saw the telltale signs that a hunter lived there.

There was salt on the window sill by the front door and ancient Celtic symbols spray painted on the walls. Herbs hung on little hooks outside the window, and part of a devil's trap was just barely peeking out from beneath a "Welcome" mat. 

"You know, I thought you lived in the garage for a long time," Jo remarked as she got out of the Impala.

Dean rolled his eyes for a change. Then, he got out of his car, grabbed his gun, and tossed a set of his house keys to the young woman. "Go on in and get settled. I'll have a look around, just in case."

"Want me to come with you?" Joanne asked, knowing the answer already.

Like other alphas, Dean had his territory and he guarded it well. It was the area where he prowled at night, and neither cops nor assholes were ever going to convince him otherwise. Wolves had hunting grounds and dolphins had preferred ocean currents, but humans had added complexity. They settled for places, for stores or parks or neighborhoods. Most days, Jo didn't want to know exactly how alphas -- male and female -- kept track of their borders. They had rules and instincts that governed behavior; it made for interesting stories in high school.

"I'd rather you keep an eye on Sam."

Stretching, the tall omega yawned and shivered in the chilly, midnight weather. "I'm fine."

"You passed out, kiddo. That's a good, long walk from fine."

"Dean, I might be a little unsteady at the moment, all things considered, but please stop treating me like a child. I can take care of myself. Have been, in fact, for the last three years."

"How old are you, anyway?" Jo asked.

"Nineteen next month," Sam replied as he pulled his own favorite pistol out of his backpack and adjusted his grip.

"I know that," the hunter told him softly, "and I get it. But I see you and I want to make damn sure no one else touches you ever again the way that bastard did."

The younger man sighed almost sadly. "He deserves whatever's coming to him."

"You have a problem with that?"

"I...No..." Sam looked directly at Dean. "I don't have a problem with it, I just... Like you said before, I don't put much value in revenge. I want him to stop. I never want another person to suffer at his hands. But do I want to see him dead? I don't know."

"You have more patience than me, Sammy." Dean smiled at the omega warmly. "I'll take care of you. I promise."

"Thanks, Dean."

"All right, chat's over. Sam, you take first watch. Jo, coffee might do us all a world of good if you're up for brewing some. I'll be back in twenty minutes and then you two can catch some rest."

"I've been napping all the way here," the woman pointed out. "You come back, you sleep. At least until Mama and Bobby get here. Coffee, though, that I can pull off."

Dean locked his car and made his way toward the front of the store, gun in hand, index finger on the trigger. No one was going to get the jump on him again tonight, not if he had anything to say about it.

Jo climbed the narrow stairs and gingerly unlocked the front door of Dean's apartment, not entirely sure what to expect. What she found was that Dean lived in what could only be described as a bachelor pad for the criminally insane. Instead of pictures on the walls, the hunter had a weapon collection -- everything from knives to rifles, each one cleaned and polished to perfection. 

She found coffee in the pantry, bear in the fridge, and half a pizza chilling by the microwave. A leather couch in the living room faced an over-sized television. Jo saw no rugs or decorations, just salt and herbs and guns. She wondered how an adult human being survived on essentially porn and pizza, and then decided she didn't want to know that, either. Sam, meanwhile, stowed his backpack in the coat closet, tucked his pistol in his belt, and then washed his hands as best as he could with the bandages. 

"Need any help?" he asked from the bathroom.

Jo shook her head. "Nah, it's all good. I think I have this."

"This place smells like him," said the omega softly as he wandered around the tiny apartment.

"I suppose it would. I can't smell anything besides olives and pepperoni." Jo started the coffee maker going and then came over to the couch. "How's the arm?"

"It's feeling all right, I guess. Still pretty sore, but I'll manage."

The brown-haired young man looked down at his bandaged limb and gently moved his fingers back and forth. It hurt to flex them, just like his other bruises ached when he walked or sat, but the pain felt dull and distant. He barely noticed it.

"I think the doc gave you something for the pain. Want to try taking whatever it is?"

Sam shook his head. "I'd rather not, if I can help it."

Jo raised a curious eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I don't want to go back to sleep."

"It's all right if you do sleep, you know. You're safe here."

"I just don't like what I dream about is all. Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

From the doorway, Dean muttered, "The whole neighborhood smells like alpha and piss. Anything noteworthy on TV?"

"The usual crap, probably," Joanne replied as she turned on the television. "That's why I avoid the news."

A shaken and disheveled news anchor appeared on the screen in high definition. "We're still receiving reports of gunfire and rioting in Austin and, more recently, in some suburbs of Houston. The White House has declared a state of emergency and the National Guard is being deployed to—"

"Yeah, OK," the hunter grumbled.

"Riots?" Sam asked.

Dean poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and took a big gulp. Without sugar or creamer, it tasted almost exactly like filtered tar. He shook his head and leaned against the wall in the living room. At least he felt more awake now.

"There have been water shortages pretty much all across Texas, and most of the southern states. That makes for a lot of unhappy people," Jo explained. "The encroaching coast line isn't helping things, either. They've had to shut down three desalination plants because of the rising water."

"And quakes in California, and biological warfare up in Maine." The hunter shrugged. "We'll be all right for the time being."

"I didn't know all that," Sam said with a frown, lips pressed together in a hard line. He looked at the alpha and saw exhaustion in the man's eyes. "How long have you been up?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Dean."

"Since yesterday morning, I think." The hunter shrugged. "I have a few more hours in me."

The omega smiled and said soothingly, "Why don't you get some rest? Can't be a crack shot half asleep, can you?"

"I'd rather not leave you alone, Sam."

"I know, but I'll still be here when you wake up."

"OK, you two are acting weird, even by my standards," Jo pointed out.

Both men looked at her like she'd grown another head. "What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

"Forget it. Dean, you need sleep and I need some of that coffee. Now."

Sam chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

Dean snapped the safety back on his shotgun. "Fine, but if anything so much as stirs out there, wake me up. Got it?"

"Will do, Boss," replied the woman.


	8. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Sam talks and Dean reassures.

Sam was wide awake when Ellen and Bobby finally arrived early the next morning. He stood by the kitchen window and watched the slow, steady sunrise, so it took no extra effort to see a couple of trucks arrive. Both slowed down in the alley next to Dean's shop and parked beside the overbearing Impala.

The omega glanced over at Jo, peacefully asleep on the couch, and then toward the bedroom door where Dean was hopefully resting now. As far as Sam could tell, the alpha's night thus far boiled down to a sequence of nightmares and wasn't looking any better at the moment. With a slow sigh, he went to open the door for the new arrivals.

Bobby walked in first, and that morning he looked like his usual grizzled self. Older than most hunters ever got to be, the man owned a junkyard and enough books to fill several libraries. The old man's knowledge of the occult bordered on legendary — hunters came to him when they needed help, or work.

"Hey there, Sam," the elderly hunter said with a warm, relaxed smile and gave the omega a bug hug. "It's nice to be seeing you again after all this time."

When Sam was young, his father used to drop him off at Bobby's house when he went hunting. The young man never did find out what happened between the two of them, but one night, Bobby had pointed a shotgun at John and promised to shoot him on sight next time. The omega hadn't seen Bobby after that.

Turned out, Sam knew even less about Jo's mother; like almost everyone else, she had never gotten along with John. And John steered clear of people he didn't get along with, a list that must have been a mile long by the time he passed away. The young man had no illusions about the nature of the man who'd raised him.

Ellen brushed loose, graying hair out of her face and took Sam's hand. "Sweetheart," she said kindly enough. "It's been forever. How're you doing?"

"All right, I guess," he replied with a half-formed smile. "Still getting used to things. What about you two?"

"Oh you know, the usual," replied the owner of the Roadhouse with that familiar head shake. "Boy, you are as skinny as a twig. A good breakfast wouldn't do you any harm."

"There's beer in the fridge."

"Anything else?"

"Nope," Sam said softly with a half-hearted shrug. "I get the impression that's Dean's style."

"You got that right," Bobby agreed with a snort. "Stocked fridges ain't high on that boy's list."

"Oh well, I guess we can stop for breakfast somewhere on the road." Ellen nodded to herself. "Bobby, did you get a hold of that friend of yours?"

The older man grumbled and leafed through a notebook. "Look, I'd rather no repeat myself twice. Let's get the kids up and have a powwow about what Patrick found."

Sam tilted his head a little and asked quietly, "Can it wait a couple of hours, by any chance. They both desperately need more sleep."

"We might not have that long," replied the elder hunter.

"Why not?" Ellen inquired as she put down her purse and checked the fridge.

"Pat's been keeping an eye on Gordon's hideout since last night. Best he can tell, they're clearing out."

"All right, fine. Guess breakfast can wait. I'll get Jo. Sam, wake Dean up and let's get ready. We'll only get one shot at this."

Sam hesitated before entering the alpha's bedroom, and then softly closed the door behind himself. The slightly older man lay on the bed, sheets askew, still fully dressed. His shotgun stood propped up against a nightstand and a pistol under his bed, just barely visible in the early morning light streaming in through an open window.

The omega's heart beat a little faster and wilder; a warm, eager smile crept onto his face. He tiptoed over to the bed and stood there for a moment, just watching Dean sleep. The slow and steady rise and fall of the alpha's chest somehow reassured the boy. In Gordon's dungeon of sorts, Sam had dreamed about this man, and though the dreams made no sense, they gave him a measure of peace.

"Sorry to wake you up," the omega whispered softly, and then a little louder, "it's time to get up."

Dean Wesson practically jumped out of his bed, and it took him a moment to see the kid or realize where he was. "What's going on?"

"Bobby and Ellen arrived a few minutes ago, and I guess we don't have much time."

"Oh." The hunter nodded. "All right, OK. Just give me a couple of minutes and I'll be right out."

"Sure," Sam mumbled and turned around, heading for the door. "Um, maybe it's none of my business or anything, but..." His voice trailed off into an uncertain silence.

Dean looked directly at him and caught the boy's hand. "Spit it out."

"You're not, you know, obligated to do this."

The alpha ruffled the boy's hair, even though he had to reach to touch the top of Sam's head. "I said I would, kiddo, and I don't go back on my word."

"I know that. I just..."

"Sammy, you're worrying. Quit it." Dean wrapped his arm around the shivering omega. "Everything's going to be fine. Why don't you go make sure Jo hasn't killed her mother just yet. I'll see you in a few."

"I just don't want anything to happen to you," Sam blurted out.

"I know how to handle a gun."

"It's not your ability with a weapon that I'm worried about, Dean."

The hunter took a step back and put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Tell me what you know."

"About?"

"Whatever's bothering you."

Sam took a seat on Dean's bed and sighed, ran a hand through his tussled hair. "I used to dream about you. While Gordon was... I don't know why, either. I mean, we met but that was years ago, and I was just a kid back then."

"OK, what do bad dreams have to do with anything?"

"They weren't bad dreams, not really."

"What were they?"

The omega shook his head. "Something more, maybe. I don't know." He took a deep breath again, forced himself to go on. "I dreamed that Gordon would get lax after his sixth whiskey shot, and he was. Sat there, half in a stupor, just making lewd jokes. So I ran. And then, the hospital, and you coming into that room. And you did. Other things, too. There's only one dream left undone — that hasn't happened, yet."

"You have visions, Sam?"

"I want to say no, but enough of my dreams have come true that I'm starting to wonder."

Dean sat down beside him and took a deep breath. "I don't know why you dreamed about me. Or what it all means. But I do know that Gordon will pay for what he's done. I plan on making sure of it."

"Just be OK."

The alpha gave him a warm, reassuring smile. "I will. So will you." He took Sam's hand in both of his own. "Have faith, Sammy, in me and Jo and Ellen. And in yourself."

"If you say so."

"I say so. Now, scram and give me a few."

Sam escaped the room with a silent nod and stood by the wall just on the other side of Dean's now closed door. He took a deep breath and then looked up at Jo and Ellen.

"Dean will be out shortly."

"Good," the older woman said with a nod. "You got a weapon, boy?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded and pulled his gun out of his back pocket, essentially.

"All right. As soon as Dean's ready, we'll head out."

Bobby came in from the landing outside. "We have a couple of hours, top," he said grimly.

The bedroom door practically slammed open and Dean emerged, shotgun cradled in both hands. "Sam, you're with me. Ellen, take Jo. Bobby did you bring your own truck."

"Slow down there, boy. We're not idiots," Bobby muttered. "Did you just plan on rushing in there and getting yourself — and these lovely ladies — killed?"

"How many?"

"Boss," Jo warned, rolling her eyes.

"How many are there," Dean repeated.

"Eight, maybe nine people. Possibly two other omegas. A couple of normal betas, too."

"All right, so here is the plan."


End file.
